My Mother Would Kill Me If She Saw This

She's got epilepsy. Had it since way before I was born. I was a senior in high school when I found out. When your mother has been taking pills four times a day for your whole life, it somehow never occurs to you to wonder why exactly she's taking them.

She didn't tell me because everyone in the family said I had a big mouth. I can't judge if I do or not. If you ask if I like my parent's new house, or my grandpa's slut girlfriend, I'll tell you the truth - I don't like either. Does that mean I have a big mouth? Certainly it means I lacked tact. Perhaps it just means I'm overly honest. My mother told me she didn't want people knowing she's epileptic because they'll think it means she's possessed or something.

While I was a senior in high school this girl named Jodi came in one day announcing that she'd had a seizure while driving over the weekend. Her housekeeper was in the car at the time and got them both safely to the side of the road. Jodi went to the doctor, got told she couldn't drive for six months, and was put on a low dose of one of my mother's medications. Nobody called her a freak. Jodi got lots of hugs and oh my god's and sympathy for being a 17 year old who all of a sudden wouldn't be allowed to drive for a half a year. Nobody said ANYTHING negative.

I remember an after-school-special with a kid having a seizure in gym class, and wearing a special helmet. My mother never wore a helmet. I never connected her taking pills with her saying she hated the sound of crinkling paper. My grandma used to fold plastic shopping bags into very small squares and then try to smooth out the wrinkles that would never be flat. Drove my mother nuts. I thought she just didn't like it. My mother hated lights flickering - from disco balls, to the sunlight between the trees as we drove down the road, to ambulance lights. She'd be hypnotized by them. "Mommy, look away." "Mommy, close your eyes." "You can look now, Mommy." We thought she just liked them. I didn't know flickering lights can cause seizures then.

A few years ago (two?), my mother's neurologist decided to change the medications she takes. Apparently medicine has come a long way since the 70's, and there are things she could take that would have fewer side effects. Wonderful! No, not so wonderful. It's a very slow process. You start taking the new stuff on top of the old stuff, then very slowly wean off the old stuff. It's not working. My mother has been having seizures.

Her neurologist has referred her to a special medical center in the city, basically saying he's done all he can. My mother doesn't want to go. Why? She believes they'll recommend surgery, which she is petrified of. Just to be clear, she's petrified of any and ALL surgery, for everyone.

My grandma died of a sudden heart attack in 1994. Why? She was afraid to have cardiac catheterization, which would have told us/her if she needed open heart surgery. So she died. Apple.... tree, anyone? I recall that we all very strongly agreed my grandma should have had the surgery.

My mother should just go to the damn epilepsy place in the city, and see what they have to say. Maybe they won't suggest surgery after all. Or maybe, just maybe, if a SURGEON thinks surgery would help you, and they're not scared you'll die on their table, you should consider that a reason to get the surgery. We're not talking about Jerry's Epi Hospital and Fishmart here. We're talking about a teaching hospital in a major city that people come to from other countries.

Oh and of course, I know all this because my brother told me. My mother doesn't know that I know. Which means I can't call her up and tell her to go. I have to call and ask how she is and hope she brings it up if I want to talk with her about it.

Oh Yeah. You're Subtle

My brother told me that on Sunday, after my parents arrived home from their West Coast trip, my mother called him to say she'd arrived safely. "Okay." She then says she called our grandfather to let him know too. "Okay." My brother and I are not big worriers about traveling.

According to my brother, my mother then says, "So you know, and Grandpa knows. I've let everyone who matters know."

At that point my brother was officially disgusted and got off the phone as quickly as possible.

I'm having a hard time not wishing my mother dead.

Crushing Sadness

I hate these days where it's a struggle not to cry at work. Also, I think I have way too many of them. My laptop is dead. Since Friday afternoon I've been trying to meet up with some guy who can hopefully revive my dead laptop.

Had it not been my birthday yesterday this weekend would have been like the ones I usually had in Florida. Leave work Friday afternoon and don't speak out loud until getting back to work on Monday morning. I think because I live by myself (if I see my roommate once a week that's a lot, and we literally just see each other and say hi and that's it) being able to connect to the internet makes a huge difference.

On Saturday I thought about going to see a movie since I couldn't use my computer (to return emails, to look up addresses to send out regular mail, to pay bills, etc.) but then realized I couldn't look up movie times. I couldn't go exploring anyplace since I couldn't Mapquest directions.

I've been in an awful mood lately. My friend took me to dinner yesterday and it was so VERY sweet of her, and even then, I was struggling not to appear miserable.

So when I read about people who are broken-hearted due to being in love with two men and having to choose between their husband or The Other Guy, it kind of bums me out. Okay, it does more than bum me out. It fucking burns.

And of course, the time change is coming soon, to add to my overwhelming joy. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Seriously, I feel like if I never contacted people, I'd never see anyone except for one person. And honestly, that makes me doubt the people who say they're my friends. You know that circus trick where you balance a plate on top of a stick, and you have to keep hitting the plate so it will continue to balance and twirl? If I don't keept attending to the plate, I will have no friends balancing on that stick at all.

I hate my life. What's worse is that I hate myself.

Parental Leftovers

On Saturday, apropos of nothing, my friend's three-year-old (who met my parents last Monday) said to me, "I like your daddy but I don't like your mommy." "Why don't you like my mommy?" After some thinking, in what sounded to me like a very small voice, "Because she didn't like me." How much of a bitch do you have to be to not just FAKE it with a fucking three year old?! It's really not that hard! My mother should be ashamed of herself.

My brother had a frustrating and exhausting time with them. They probably had a much more pleasant time with him than they did with me. He took them to Morton's Steakhouse, Gladstone's in Malibu and to a Laker's game. I took them to therapy. It's no wonder he's the favorite.

He made our parents hotel arrangements, and got them a place right on the ocean. Since my brother had to work Thursday and Friday, my parents had two whole days to explore. They were given lots of suggestions and ideas, none of which they took. That's right, they stayed in their hotel room the ENTIRE time. Without even asking, I can tell you that my mother spent all her time sleeping, in the bathroom, and watching tv (but mostly sleeping). My father spent all his time reading and watching tv. Oh, and waiting around for my mother. They didn't even venture out of the hotel for their meals. My brother was disappointed in them. You can clearly see where my lack of adventure comes from.

On Sunday, my parents called me from LAX before boarding their plane to wish me a happy birthday. I was trying to get things done before meeting someone and didn't really have the twenty minutes I took to sit on my bed and talk with my dad. So when he said my mother wanted to talk to me I was not pleased. After two or three minutes I told her I had to go - I was getting completely off my schedule. Then I remembered her whole "It might kill me if you hang up" thing from therapy, and was instantly re-enraged by it. She said goodbye pretty quickly, and after I hung up I said to noone "Good. I hope you fucking DIE now." Yeah, I guess I'm a little angry. Got an e-mail from my dad this morning and he didn't mention anything about my mother being dead, so I'm guessing she's not.

I'm so glad their visit is over with. I don't know if I want there to be another one.

Lowlights From the Parental Visit - Day Two

Here's the short version: Day Two was worlds worse than Day One. I feel like I'm getting sick, and I'm sure it's from all the stress.

Much longer version in bullet format:

• Yesterday I decided to take my parents to my brother's favorite italian restaurant in North Beach, but since they were running late and we were meeting cousins later in the afternoon, we ultimately didn't have enough time. That meant that for the second day in a row, my dad and I wound up having (very high quality, but nonetheless) hamburgers and french fries for lunch.
• We then zoomed to meet our relatives, who wanted to get drinks. Have you met me? Hi, I'm Me, and I don't drink alcohol. At all. Ever. I don't go to bars, I don't drink. So these cousins who are very into wine-tasting and drinking did not know what to do with me. So I spent two hours sitting in a bar drinking ice water before therapy. Lovely.
• Then we went to therapy. We sat around making lame small talk before the therapist had us come in. I know we're all kind of having doubts as to how good she is, but I will say this: the woman gave us 65 minutes BOTH nights. It was both parents that came in last night, as opposed to Monday night that was just my dad and me.
• I had a very hard time starting. How do you tell your mother that the mere thought of her makes you want to run screaming these days? How do you tell your mother that you're scared that if she dropped dead tomorrow, you think you might be relieved and not sad? How do you tell your mother you didn't even really want to do therapy with her, because you don't believe it'll help anything?
• I give my mother a LOT of credit. She admitted some REALLY hard things last night. We could see her struggling to be open to listening. I watched her want to be defensive and try to shove that urge down. Sometimes it slipped through.
• Because my mother and I have so many problems it was very hard for us to stay focused on one or two things, which it seemed was what the therapist wanted. We mostly concentrated on my feeling that my mother doesn't listen to me (see Monday night's bus issue). I used the example of her constantly sending me e-mail forwards. It seems so simple to me - if someone sent it to you, DON'T send it to me. The end. Apparently not that simple for my mother. She'll even reference that she knows I don't want forwards, but then claim the joke was very "Zoe." Or that she knows I wouldn't want her to have bad luck. Just LISTEN to me! Why is that so hard?
• We also discussed (pay attention to this one) that I don't like talking to her on the phone because when I say I have to go, she will not let me get off the phone, but keep talking for another twenty minutes. The therapist told me I'm an adult, and I need to take control and it's okay to say "Mom, I told you I have to go. We can talk another time. Good bye." I'm not good at hanging up on people, but I will try. She then turned to my mother and told HER that she is also an adult, and needs to respect me as an adult and let me go. This is when my mother started blubbering. Therapist asks my mother what she's feeling in that moment. My mother says she knows she has abandonment issues (her mother died when she was six years old; that'd be exactly 50 years ago). The therapist says something to my mother about that it won't kill her to get off the phone with me, right? AND MY MOTHER SAYS SHE DOESN'T KNOW. That's right. My hanging up with my mother might kill her.
• At this point I yell at my mother. Something like, "Are you fucking kidding me?" I was beyond furious. My mother has said for years that in 1994, when I went away to college her blood pressure went down. So my being away was good for her health. But now my needing to get off the phone may be bad for her health? Way to make someone never want anything to do with you at ALL. This is what I'm dealing with here. She yaps on and on about physiologic responses and blah blah blah. I tuned her out at this point - MY blood pressure was surely going to rise if I listened to her.
• My father and the therapist tried to make my mother see the insanity in saying that my needing to get off the phone would not kill anyone.
• We left therapy and after standing in the office lobby arguing about what to do next before deciding to go back to the hotel and order pizza. So from 8:30 p.m. until about 12:30 a.m., we sat and talked. I did a lot of crying.
• Because yesterday I mentioned to my father how his raging upsets and scares me, I think he really tried to hold back from yelling at me through the night.
• I told my mother that I feel she failed me. I asked why somewhere around year four or six of the shrink they forced me to see for TWELVE years, she never said, "You know, Zoe's not getting any better. Perhaps another shrink is in order here." She told me she tried to find one and couldn't. In TWELVE years she's trying to tell me she couldn't find someone else? Sorry, not buying it.
• One of the good things is that my father agreed to research how well biofeedback can help with my learning disabilities. I can't research this because the reading is over my head, but this is something my dad's actually worked on, though it was 35 years ago, and will understand.
• I told my mother she suffocates me. She doesn't understand how, and my father kept inserting himself into that statement, and I had to keep telling them that I don't feel suffocated by him, just her.
• At one point, my father admitted that he doesn't have friends, and hasn't for a long time, and my mother said, "Ditto" and it was the first time she ever admitted it. I told my mother I think she suffocates me because she wants to make me play the role of her friend, and it's too much for me. I truly feel that my mother still has no understanding of what she does to suffocate me. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to better articulate myself, except to tell her again, not to send me forwards. Fuck.
• I told my mother I wish she was more honest. That she wouldn't tell family when I'm in New York that "Zoe is barely home. The phone rings off the hook when she's here, and she's constantly in and out of the house, always running off to get together with friends." That's not true. I don't have any friends in New York. Stop lying about me. Sorry I'm not the popular daughter you wanted, but don't lie about me.
• I cleared up the love issues with my father. He never says "I love you." Except that now he does, and it just started. I didn't understand. Did you love me when I was growing up? Yes. You love me now? Yes. Why didn't you tell me growing up? I don't know.
• He asked if I trust him. I told him it was hard to trust. That love is a big deal and it seems to me like he flipped a switch.
• I told my mother how much it bothers me when she can't take a joke. My father is the most loyal man you could ever meet, but if a joke is made about him having an affair, she can't let it go. That she is so mean to my dad. Last time I was in NY I told my dad that every time a certain thing happens I think of him, and my mother said to him, "Is that what you want to be remembered for?"
• The last thing is that around midnight my mother cried, saying she has been so worried about me for the last few months. Because I haven't been talking to her, and then wanted to talk with her when they came to SF, but only with a therapist because whatever I had to say was so huge that I needed help saying it. She claimed she was scared I would say I was dying. OH BULLFUCKINGSHIT. I asked my brother today if my mother ever said anything about being worried that I was sick or dying. Of course not. So I think I was making her feel bad, and this was her attempt to make me feel guilty.

My parents tried to say that the ball is in my court, and get me to answer their question of what will happen in the future. I don't know, and that's what I kept telling them. That didn't seem to be good enough and they kept asking. HELLO! Did we not just discuss how it bothers me that I don't get listened to?

I am exhausted. The truth is that right now, I DON'T really have any desire to talk with my parents, my mother mostly. That I don't trust that she will change (I doubt my father can control his rage either).

So that's how yesterday went. Sorry this is so long.

Lowlights from the Parental Visit - Day One

(May I just say that it saddens me when I think of my friends, some of whom have kids, who will one day be the subject of blog entries by their children. My friends try so hard to be good parents, worrying over what seem like the smallest things to me, and they want so badly to nurture their kids and help turn them into happy, healthy, productive adults. To think their kids may hate them and bitch about them, the way we sit around bitching about our parents...)

1. Sunday, before my parents left NY, my father called me at 9 a.m. for some reason I can't quite figure out. I was awake though grumpy, and not quite ready to be making conversation. When I told him that because Nice Partner is headed into trial next week, therefore will be flying a lot this week to prepare witnesses, and I might be a little late meeting the Parental Unit Monday while I made sure he was getting on correct flights and such, my father had what I can only describe as a temper tantrum. "Fine. Then why don't you just call us when you get out of work, and maybe if you have time we'll get together, and if you don't, then we'll just see you some other time."

Dude. Aren't YOU the one who wants to get together with ME? That attitude does NOT make me want to spend time with you. Who would want to spend time with someone who's going to treat them like that?

I threw up before my parents got to my place. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run away from home. I really had no desire to see them at all.

2. My parents arrived at my apartment, where my friend (and her daughter) was also supposed to meet us, before we went to lunch. My father broke my already broken lamp as he figured out what's wrong with it. It was funny.

3. My mother ASKED if she could sit down in my living room chair. "Do you have poo on your pants or something?" Of course she could sit in the living room chair. She's just not welcome to sit in the dining room chairs, because she breaks them (two of my brother's).

4. My friend arrived with her kid. In front of my parents she asked, "How are you?" I replied, "Good." As she leaned forward and hugged me, I whispered, "Not good." I feel bad saying this, but I said a silent prayer that her daughter would be excellently behaved, lest my parents think she's a brat and my friend is a bad parent for having a bratty child.

5. We fucked around in my house for an HOUR. NOBODY would nut up and say what they wanted for lunch. Inside I was seething at the waste of time. I took time off from work for THIS? We ultimately went to the Beach Chalet. I had called them in the morning to find out if they had an elevator, since my mother can't walk up stairs.

6. Bless my friend, who likes to talk. I have no clue what she yammered on about, but she did a good job of it with my parents. She also tried not to laugh when my parents and I all ordered the same thing at the restaurant. A hamburger.

7. My parents kept their mouths shut at all the things my friend's daughter did that they would have smacked me for doing at her age. Truly, I was shocked. They aren't terrible things, just ... my parents really demanded excellently perfect behavior at all times, and my friend isn't that strict.

8. Due to the aforementioned (and cross-blogged about) lamp situation, my father offered to drive us to Target to get me a new one. I don't have a car anymore, and have never driven to Target. Highways? Never use 'em. My brother had told me the exit to get off at. It was the wrong one. We were mildly lost. We were running out of time. Fuck. Ultimately found Target, but they didn't have the lamp I wanted.

9. Therapy. The therapist wanted me to tell my parents ahead of time that I didn't want to see them both together. She didn't want to be the bad guy, and she wanted me to give them ample warning. So I did. Went in with my dad. I gave him the comfy chair. The uncomfortable chair was really uncomfortable.

10. Told my dad that I hate when he screams and rages all out of control. How it makes me not want to come visit in New York. How it made me worry right after his open heart surgery that his chest would rip open and his heart would go plop on the floor from the rage. The therapist kept interrupting me, and it pissed me off. I have YEARS worth of feelings on this that go in multiple directions, and she kept trying to push me to stay very tightly focused. I can't say what I need my father to hear in 10 minutes. The therapist asked my father to do active listening. He did, she asked how I felt about what he spit back at me. I told him it was too perfect, and I didn't trust it. I apologized for saying that. My father is the most trustworthy person in the world, and I felt awful saying I didn't trust him. But I didn't. Also told my dad that I feel like he and my mother, my shrink for 12 years, the school distrct, etc. totally failed me. That had to be horrible to hear. He agreed, though he said it wasn't for lack of trying. I agree they tried, but I can't help but wonder why they didn't try harder or differently.

11. I feel like therapy sucked. I feel like there's both too much time with the 'rental unit and also not enough time to address all the issues. I can't believe I have to go through another day of this shit.

12. Really, they want more than I want to give them.

13. At the end of the night, I wanted to take the bus home from where we were. It was less than half a block from us. My parents were 5 blocks from their hotel, and I lived half a city away. My parents wanted to drive me home. We went back and forth, I finally gave in, and they got TOTALLY lost and it took over an hour to get home. So furious. They want me to talk with them. Why would I want to talk to them? Nobody ever listens to me. What's the point?

*Sorry I'm not providing links. This post isn't about being widely read or ratings and I'm in a rush.

Vacation

Yesterday I went to HR and announced that I'll no longer be taking time off before Thanksgiving. My very nice gay HR guy asked what happened, and I explained that my brother was going to fly me to LA but changed his plans, which subsequently changed mine. HR Guy was very nice about it. I was worried he'd be annoyed, but he wasn't.

He then pointed out that I am only a couple of pay periods away from topping out of vacation hours. We can only accrue 150 hours (that's about four weeks). At that point you simply stop accruing. HR Guy encouraged me to take some vacation, and take it soon.

But I have nowhere to go, noone to go with and noone to go to. I'm not really an adventurous sort of person, and I don't have a passport, nor do I speak or understand any foreign languages. Nor am I comfortable being surrounded by people I don't understand (fellow people watchers will understand).

If I were going on a vacation somewhere, I would like the weather to be fall or springish. I couldn't go to a place that has weird food - I'm the type to skip a meal if someone says, "First try it, then I'll tell you what you're eating." I don't go camping. I like watching the ocean. I get lost easily. Hostels are too .... well, I'm too snobby to be comfortable in them, and yet I'm not comfortable with fancy things like manicures and massages and little men who fetch things and bring them to my room. I could probably spend up to about $5,000.

I'm thinking I'll just cash out two weeks worth of time. Figure it's a good idea to leave some in there what with flu season coming and all. Then I can take that cash and put it towards a future vacation. That I'll probably never take.

I really fucking hate myself.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

So at one point in August, I was on top of the world. My brother and CG wanted to fly me to LA to watch their dog. All I had to do was take off three days before Thanksgiving.

I asked all three attorneys I work for, got approval, ran to HR to ask if there was still time for one more secretary to take off, got THAT approved.

Told my brother to book the tickets. Made plans with a friend in LA for Turkey Day. I can not adequately explain how excited I was at the thought of having a sweet dog to play with for an entire week. Having a car at my disposal. Being in a city that I know a tiny bit and wouldn't mind getting to know a little bit more.

Then last Friday, I got this:

Just wanted to let you know that there has been a tentative change in our Thanksgiving plans. Packages to Anchorage are really expensive and [the people they were going to visit] are all coming to CA for Christmas so CG and I decided to take the same amount of time off, drive up (with [dog]) to SF the weekend before Thanksgiving, stay in SF Sat, Sun, Mon and part of Tuesday and then go to the Carmel house Tuesday for most/all of the rest of the week. CG specifically invited you to come to the Carmel house for Thanksgiving. You can rent a car and follow us down from SF.

As far as I know, none of her family wil be there except possibly her brother. Anyway, you're welcome to join us and I'll consider these new plans final when we book a hotel for SF, which I'll push to get done this weekend. I like the new plan much better than the old plan. I want to go to Alaska and see the house and the area and the baby and all, but not in November.

Today's not really a good day for me phonecall wise, but we can talk this weekend or next week. Sorry plans keep changing. I assure you that this one had nothing whatsoever to do with you (in case you were worried about that.)

I am SO CRUSHED about this. On many levels. Anyone I've spoken with has encouraged me to keep the time off from work and go somewhere and do something.

But I think that's one of those pieces of advice people give that they wish someone would give THEM in that situation, not advice they've thought out for me. I also feel like the people who've suggested I take a trip elsewhere don't realize that this trip to LA was an entirely FREE trip. I pay for food in San Francisco, I'd have to pay for food in Los Angeles. All I'd pay extra for is a couple of tanks of gas for the car. That's ALL.

It's a no brainer to take off from work for a free trip to play with a dog. But other than LA, I don't really have anywhere to go. I certainly don't have anywhere I can go that has a dog for me to play with.

So I have to tell HR I'm giving the time back. I should let someone else take off the time if they want it. What bothers me most about this is it's the SECOND time I'm doing this - second time my brother asked me to dog/house sit, and second time I've asked for time off, gotten it approved, only to have to go back later because my brother changed his mind.

HOW EMBARRASSING! I hope HR doesn't tell me they'll no longer approve any vacation time for me in the future because of this. I'm certainly never ever going to take time off from work based on my brother's word that he wants me to dogsit again.

I suppose I should take solice in the fact that they were willing to have me watch the dog. Fuck. I was so excited. So, SO excited.

If you talked to me this past Friday, and I was rude to you, I'm sorry. I spent the whole morning crying at my desk, and the whole afternoon trying to not cry. So I was a little distracted during any conversations.

What the Hell Just Happened?

I feel like going to the therapist was a big fat fucking waste last night. I have no clue what exactly we discussed or resolved. I wish somebody had gone with me.

I feel like we went around and around in circles. I hate when people argue me about what people who I know better than they do will do in a given situation. Don't ask me how I think my parents will react if you're going to question my answers.

After telling the therapist that I don't want my mother in the room when I talk with my father, she practically wanted me to promise her that I'd tell my mother that before arriving at her office. Fine.

She went over the things I want to discuss with my father, and I didn't realize until I was on the way home that she'd left out a big one.

My father e-mailed me asking if I want to go to dinner with them after therapy. The answer is no. The thought of sitting in therapy discussing difficult, painful, awkward things, and then having to go sit across from a table and eat food with him does not appeal to me. Especially since my mother is one of those slow eaters. You know the type - everyone else has finished but is forced to sit around for at least another 45 minutes waiting for her to finish. It drives me nuts. I told him it would be too late at night for me and I'd need to be getting home.

So he offered to drive me home from therapy. How do you say, "Look. I really don't want to spend any time with your wife. At all. For a variety of reasons, some of which you can guess and some of which would hurt you to hear even though you'd know they're true. And since you guys are joined at the hip, that means I don't want to spend much time with you. Nothing personal." to your father, who keeps trying to reach out?

Really not looking forward to this visit at all. I wish I drank. Or smoked crack. Something.